


Our Corner of the Universe

by honey_beee



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Fluff, House talks about feelings, M/M, Short, extended oneshot, much to his own distaste, soft House
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:40:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24958522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_beee/pseuds/honey_beee
Summary: After he's shot, House has a hallucination that he and Wilson bring their relationship to the next level.  ...Or does he? Was it just a hallucination?To find out the truth, he's going to have to talk to Cuddy, Foreman, Cameron, and Chase.
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson
Comments: 21
Kudos: 124





	1. Chapter 1

_House was floating.  
Above space and time, he sat, waiting for all eternity to pass. He could just wait. Wait, in this soft void that kept a ringing noise around his ears.  
There was a sudden sharp pain in his neck. He gasped in shock, trying to clap a hand to the pain, but his body was slow and wouldn’t move. House forced panic down. Above him, he could see bright lights. If he focused, he could hear shouting around him. Why were they shouting? A smile touched his lips.  
The world was so peaceful if you closed your eyes….  
So he did.  
It was later when he awoke- how much later, he couldn’t say, maybe it was a mere minute, or maybe he really had waited out eternity. It was impossible to say.  
House soon became aware he had eyes. With effort, he forced them open, and swimming, hazy shapes appeared there, like otters in water.  
“House,” a disembodied voice said. “House!” it echoed, pushing all the shapes back, it tripled and then increased by a hundredfold, bouncing off wall to wall to wall. He shrank from it, retreating to the safety of the void.  
“House.” This voice was quiet, and it fell softly on his ears. House pushed his eyes open again, and a blurry face became slightly more focused. It had eyes, like him.  
Once again, House felt the pain- a stabbing feeling in his neck and stomach. He groaned. There was a rustling sound, a beeping noise, and the pain faded. House sighed in relief.  
“Hey.” There was a warmth on his hand, clasped around it, cocooning it and keeping it safe. House suddenly knew he did not like people touching him, but it was so soothing he decided, just once, to let it be.  
“Can you hear me?” the voice snorted. A smile touched House’s lips.  
“If you’re just pretending to be asleep, and I’m spilling all these feelings for nothing, I am going to kill you,” the voice warned.  
He heard another voice then, saying something about giving death threats to patients in the ICU, but he paid it no mind. The void was safe and warm, and the hand and the voice were safe and warm, and despite the numbness in his body, he didn’t believe he had ever felt so protected.  
The voice returned. “Apparently, I’m not going to kill you.” There was a pause. “So you can wake up now,” it whispered, and sounded so soft and heartbroken, House couldn’t believe it was talking to him.  
“You would mock me if you were awake,” the voice continued. “So I’m going to assume it’s safe to be mushy.”  
The lights were bright. One was blue, the other was purple. House liked the colors.  
“I care about you,” the grip on his hand tightened. “More than you know.”  
House felt the sudden urge to wake up, but the void was becoming heavier and heavier. He needed to say something- sounds passed his lips, but he was not sure what they meant. The blinding white of the void returned, the warmth in his hand faded away- he tried to shout, but every cell in his body was relaxing, as though there was a weight over it.  
He was floating….._

~~~~!

When House came to, four anxious doctors were peering over him.  
He blinked, but their faces remained. “What’s a guy gotta do to get some space around here?” he rasped. At once, three of them scrambled back.  
“You’re back,” the first said. Long, red hair. Concerned expression. Cameron.  
“So it appears,” House rumbled. “Where’s Wilson?”  
“Here,” the second said. Thick eyebrows, brown hair, teeth marks on his lip. Wilson. House couldn’t help a rush of guilt- Wilson only chewed on his lips when he was really stressed. It must have been bad if he was worrying Wilson.  
“How are you feeling?” the third asked. Arms crossed, blond hair, a look of relief of his face. Chase.  
“Well, I just got shot,” House said.  
“There might be some good news to that,” Cameron offered.  
“Ketamine,” the fourth doctor took up the tale. Trimmed bread, dark skin, almost a smirk on his face. Foreman. “You told us to use ketamine before you lost consciousness- for your leg.”  
House froze. “So I did. Because you-” his mind was spinning and spinning. “I-” round and round, like a toy at a child’s playground. “Hallucinations,” he concluded, and all four nodded.  
Before the void sent him to sleep, House remembered having hallucinations. Cuddy used ketamine on his leg. Cameron was at his bed when he woke up. The guy who shot him was next to him. He punched Wilson. He solved the case. Then he...images of his hands, pushing down on a silver machine- a knife ripping through an already damaged body- he killed the case.  
He turned to Wilson. “Your jaw.”  
“Is as strong and sculpted as ever,” he confirmed, but there was a questioning look on his face.  
House narrowed his eyes. There wasn’t any bruising, or inflammation.  
So him punching Wilson was definitely a hallucination. It was safe enough to say the rest of it was, too. Especially that voice part.  
House snuck another glance at Wilson. He knew that was Wilson’s voice- he’d recognize it anywhere. It saying I care about you, more than you know, however, was...different.  
And most certainly not real.  
Not that he wanted it, of course. Besides, that could still be strictly platonic. Just like their friendship.  
“Are..you alright?” Cameron asked cautiously.  
House ripped his eyes away from Wilson. “Fine. So, do we have another case?”  
“You don’t,” Wilson said sternly. “You just woke up from surgery.”  
“Aww, Mom!”  
“House, you-” Wilson paused, and turned to Cameron, Foreman, and Chase- House’s diagnostic team. “You guys can probably go now.”  
Foreman and Cameron scurried away, and Chase followed them- turning back with a slight smirk on his face, which House dutifully ignored.  
“How are you?” Wilson asked softly. “Really?”  
“My mouth tastes like shit,” House admitted. Smiling, Wilson grabbed a juice box from the bedside table, opened the straw and flaps, and handed it to House.  
“Thanks,” he said, the words slightly muffled. The cool apple juice seemed to wipe away the stale, dry taste in his mouth.  
Wilson nodded, a slight blush growing on his neck.  
“Cute nurse?” House guessed, turning his head to follow Wilson’s gaze. (His neck suddenly started throbbing, and House remembered he had been shot.) Nothing was there.  
“No,” Wilson tore his eyes away and they settled on House.  
“Right,” House said, somewhat suspicious. “Because you’re married.”  
“Actually-” he cleared his throat. “We fought.”  
“Again?” House faked surprise.  
“I think it was a big one, this time.”  
“That opens you up to call these pretty ladies,” House’s brain was assembling all the pieces, but something didn’t add up. The picture wasn’t right- this strange behavior wasn’t right.  
“I guess,” Wilson mumbled. If House didn’t know better, he would say Wilson was hurt.  
“So-” he patted his stubble. “Two days?”  
Wilson nodded. “You gave us quite the fright.”  
“What can I say, I’m a daredevil,” House deadpanned. A puzzle piece was missing. Someone had erased a number from the equation. Wilson couldn’t like him. Wilson did not have a silly schoolgirl crush on House. That being said, their hallucination-conversation made no sense. If it didn’t make sense, it must not be real. It was just a hallucination, like all the others.  
However, Wilson’s particular behavior was indicating that there was something else here. His shoulders were tighter, as if carrying a burden nobody could see.  
“You’re wearing a tie.” It was a nice tie- stupidly bright, candy stripped. House hated it. And he never wanted Wilson to take it off.  
“You’re wearing it for someone.”  
“Yes, I am. The hospital likes it when we wear ties. That’s how we become heads of departments.”  
“I’m not wearing a tie,” House gestured to his thin hospital gown.  
Wilson sighed. “You, House, are something special.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *cough* we wouldn't want a _straight_ answer, would we?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I forgot to mention, this takes place between season 2 and 3 as kinda a canon divergent. So House got shot, had those hallucinations, but when he woke up in season 3, this is what happened.

_“Dunkin donuts coffee creamer?”_ House straightened up and glared at Foreman, Cameron, and Chase. “I’m gone for _two fucking days_ after being _shot_ and you buy _dunkin donuts coffee creamer?”_  
His team looked at him blankly. House turned the offender in question over his hand. “Oh, God- it’s vanilla. Where will this nightmare end?!”  
“Sorry,” Cameron murmured.  
“It’s just coffee creamer,” Foreman reminded him.  
“Just coffee creamer? Are you insulting my intelligence?”  
“Oh, please. You already know you’re a genius.”  
House cupped a hand over his ear. “Louder, please.”  
They all ignored that. Whatever.  
“Should you even be here?” Chase looked around nervously. House was supposed to be on bed rest. Technically, the diagnostics office was not bed rest, but when had he ever played by the rules?  
“Nope,” House said cheerfully, popping the ‘p’. “But you all would be lost without me.”  
“We’re perfectly good diagnosticians,” Foreman muttered under his breath, but they all knew however good they were, House was something else.  
“So, what’s our next case?”  
“Cuddy’s letting you choose.”  
“Oo- perks of being shot.”  
“Comma Guy might be up for grabs,” Chase offered.  
“Up for grabs? Where’s your sense of humanity?” House trolled.  
“There’s that girl who collapsed yesterday,” Cameron suggested. “Itchy skin, dark urine, vomiting.”  
“Liver failure, boring.”  
“Blood test was clean for all hepatitis.”  
House cocked his head. “Potential. Pick up that case. Dismissed- expect for Foreman.”  
Chase and Cameron scuttled out, casting curious looks behind them.  
“If this is about the creamer-” Foreman began.  
“It’s not about the creamer,” House said quietly. “But you should all feel ashamed, you absolute monsters.” He had wanted to talk to Foreman because he was most like House, but now that the opportunity was staring him in the face, House felt himself shrinking.  
No.  
He needed an answer.  
It wouldn’t hurt to poke, just a bit.  
“What do you think of me and Wilson?” he said carefully, turning analytical eyes to the man.  
“Why?”  
House shrugged. “Curious. I know you have opinions.”  
“None of which are my place to talk about,” Foreman said cautiously. “Especially as your-”  
“-Minon.”  
“- _Subordinate,_ ” Foreman corrected. “Not like you haven’t asked me inappropriate things before, but really, why?”  
“I am both hurt and infuriated that you think you could possibly get a straight answer out of me,” House said stubbornly.  
Foreman shook his head and began walking out the door. “We won’t want a straight answer, now, would we?” 

~~~~!

House found was not content with this.  
His mind was one that went over and over and over on things, like someone compulsively cleaning or those Japanese rock gardens. In terms of diagnostics, it was practically a superpower. But in his personal life, it was hell- clean, clean clean, rake, rake, rake, over and over until it was just perfect. And if something didn’t add up- if ust one rock was out of place- he started the whole process over again.  
Only Wilson could make him feel like this. Only Wilson could infiltrate his thoughts like this, cause such chaos in his mind like this.  
Everything else made sense.  
_So why don’t you?_  
House was tempted to drop it. There wasn’t much he could do- it’s not like one of his coworkers was going to say: ‘oh, yeah, I heard you two confess your love for each other.’ (But that’s not what he wanted. Right?)  
To be frank, even if that conversation was real, Wilson saying ‘I care for you more than you know’ didn’t necessarily mean ‘I’m romantically in love with you.’ (That was fine. House didn’t want it to. Right?) Foreman’s reluctance to talk made House even more intrigued- this was a normal symptom. This was something he could work with. He was good at this- push and prod until they go off.  
Indeed, if there was one thing House did know, it was to follow his own rules: do what you think is right (what you need to be right) and fuck the consequences. (Possibly literally.)  
Therefore, there was only one thing left to do: annoy Cuddy.  
“What.” Cuddy grumbled, before House had even opened his mouth.  
“Wow, thanks for the warm welcome,” he retorted, closing the door to her office behind him as he stepped inside.  
“Who do you want to cut up now?” She sighed. “Or do you need another liver? Or heart, maybe?”  
“It’s not for a patient,” House said quietly. This got her attention. “What?”  
“I need your…” House sighed, and looking at the floor, pushed the words out. “Advice.”  
“Advice?” Cuddy chortled. “Who knew you were human?” When House didn’t respond, her expression grew more serious. “What can I help you with?”  
“What do you think of me and Wilson?”  
“In… what way?” Cuddy said carefully.  
“We’re thinking about getting married, and we want your blessing.”  
Cuddy froze, mouth agape. “Well-I-”  
“Am _so_ gullible,” House snickered. “Seriously? You fell for that?” He paused. “Which brings me to my next point: do you think that could happen?”  
“I..” Cuddy stopped. The papers fell from her hands. “You want me to-to diagnose your relationship with Wilson?” She raised her eyebrows.  
“Uh..yes.”  
“I would say that’s crazy, you can’t diagnose relationships, but it’s you,” she sighed, sorting through the abundance of papers on her desk. “Well- you’re best friends, you have some weird dysfunctional relationship that balances your insane maniac personality with Wilson’s actual human qualities. As your employer, that’s all I can say,” Cuddy shrugged, still sorting through papers. She looked up suddenly. “Why?”  
“I..was curious.”  
“Yeah, I can see you really care about what people think of you.” She narrowed her eyes. “Were you having...hallucinations, maybe? Physiological symptoms wouldn’t be uncommon, considering-”  
“I’m fine,” House snapped.  
“O-okay,” she said, almost in a sing-song tone of voice. “Now go back to your job- preferably without getting sued. I have enough paperwork as it is.”  
With a hmph, House walked out of the office.


	3. Chapter 3

Cameron was waiting for him.  
He didn’t like it when she did that. Since he was never one to sit on his feelings, he told her so.  
“Oh, I’m sorry for caring,” Cameron grumbled as they walked back to the diagnostic office.   
“You should be. It’s just a liability.”   
“I was dropping things for Cuddy,” she glared, then paused. “But I couldn’t help notice you were having an interesting conversation.”   
“We were talking about grown-up stuff. I’ll explain it all to you when you’re older.”  
Cameron rolled her eyes. “What were you talking about?”  
“None ya beeswax,” House said briskly.   
“I can help,” she offered.  
“So tempting,” House joked. “But I have to do this alone.”  
“No, you don’t.”   
“I’m so glad I have my close friend Cameron to rely on,” he said.   
“Was it about Wilson?” she guessed.  
House paused. “Why would you think that?”   
She shrugged, but House could see a satisfied gleam in her eyes. “You just have this look when you talk about him.”   
“You would, too, if someone that annoying made your life miserable.”  
“No,” Cameron raised her eyebrows, looking almost smug. “Almost like you care.”   
“I-” He stopped.   
“You’re trying to determine your feelings for him,” Cameron guessed. House was quiet; had he really been that obvious? Correctly interrupting the silence, Cameron pressed on:  
“I don’t think it matters.”  
“You don’t think my feelings matter?” House said dramatically, hand to his forehead. “I thought we were friends!” Was it real or not?   
Cameron ignored him. “I mean,” she said. “You don’t need to know if whatever you think you saw was real or not to determine your feelings. Knowing if you wanted it to be real- or lack thereof- is almost as important.”   
House floundered. “What do you mean, real or not?”   
“Hallucinations?” she guessed. House ducked his head, nodding.   
“Love is a vulnerability, yes,” she called as she walked away. “But not a weakness. Never a weakness.” 

~~~~!

Lunch was rarely a pleasant affair.  
Somewhere very deep inside, Wilson greatly disliked people in general. House was the perfect excuse to not do so (his company was better, anyway) and then people felt bad for him- that poor man, in House’s company again!  
He would follow House to the edge of the earth. House would probably push him off.   
Wilson raked a hand through his hair, as if he could push all the unreal thoughts back in his head. They were too heavy for him to handle on his own.   
House pulled up beside him, silently sitting down across from Wilson and eyeing his full tray of food. Now that he didn’t have his cane, he could easily sneak up on Wilson. (He shuddered to think of all the pranks this opened up.)  
“Are you...alright?” Wilson asked cautiously.   
House jumped. “Fine.”  
“Right, I forget you’re Mr Invincible,” Wilson huffed.  
Wilson wondered if he was going to say Mr Invincible doesn’t limp. He did, once, when Wilson had lied to him.  
 _God doesn’t limp.  
And neither do you. _  
Being around him hurt. It was an ache in his chest, the worst thing he had ever felt, but he would rather die than have it go away. Have him go away.   
House looked at the ground. His eyes seemed to plunge through it. “I liked the apple juice.”  
“This is mine,” Wilson said through the straw in his mouth. He knew what House was trying to say, though- in their corner of the universe, words took on a different meaning, and _I liked the apple juice_ became _Thank you for taking care of me._   
“Of course it is.”   
Wilson silently handed House his own. Even though he knew House stealing from him was half the fun, House accepted it with a half-smile.   
“How’s your case?” Wilson tried.  
“Boring.” House didn’t say any more, and Wilson was tempted to reach over and yank the words out of his mouth. But he knew that never worked.  
Nothing did. 

~~~~!

House was reaching a new all-time low: the vanilla coffee creamer.   
He couldn’t figure it out. For a once-in-a-generation mind, and world-class doctor, House was an awful diagnostician.   
The thing was, with Wilson, it was easy to exist. To just exist- they didn’t even have to pretend the rest of the universe faded away.   
With Stacy- they always had to be doing something- sex, eating, watching a movie. With Wilson, they didn’t have to run from anything but themselves.   
Well. Until now. House poured the coffee creamer into his empty cup and drank some. He sputtered- it was even worse than he thought.   
All the puzzle pieces were there: the hallucination, Wilson’s odd behavior early this morning and at lunch- and...House. Was it possible that the diagnoser held most of the evidence?   
House clenched his teeth. There was almost that feeling again. He hated it.  
And he needed it more than anything.   
House heard the rustling, and turned to find Chase, walking over and sitting next to him.   
“I heard Wilson was getting on your nerves.”   
Normally, House would say something rude and sarcastic, but right now, he just didn’t have the energy. “Of a sort.”   
There was a pause. “I know you don’t like coffee creamer, but drinking it straight might be why.”   
House shrugged and looked at the cup.   
“I don’t mean to pry, but-”  
He held up a hand. “Then don’t.”   
Chase, much to House’s surprise, smiled. “If you’re trying to figure out what’s going on with you two...Why don’t you just ask him?”   
“He’s-” House stopped short, frustrated.   
“He’s probably more involved with your relationship than Cuddy or Cameron or Foreman.” He paused. “Maybe just Cuddy and Foreman.”  
House snorted. What was he doing talking to Chase? _Chase,_ of all people, was not the person he expected to give advice from. He didn’t want advice from anyone, actually, but at this point, he couldn’t change the advice he had already gotten.  
 _Find out for yourself.  
You can’t diagnose relationships.   
Love is a vulnerability, not a weakness. _  
And now, potentially the best one yet… _just talk to him._  
It wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Wilson was...different. An anomaly, that was all he could really say. (Yet he would say more.) House knew him inside out, yet he still managed to surprise him. It was crazy that they were even friends- as Cuddy had said, they somehow fit in both Wilson’s “actual human qualities” with his “insane maniac personality”. But that wasn’t true- Wilson was the nice one of them, yes, but he wasn’t necessarily nice. If anything, he was a surface-level nice, not actually kind. He manipulated House almost as much as House manipulated him- if not more. Just the other day, he somehow got House to unload all the groceries by pretending he had forgotten where they went.   
It was stupid. And he had fallen for it- he always did.   
Then again, House hadn’t realized it on his own. There was a feeling stirring in his chest- he didn’t know what it was, but it seemed to take over all the controls.   
Chase was saying something about the first time he had his heartbroken- as if House cared- but House jumped to his feet regardless.   
All his running had prepared him for this- never underestimate a god pairs of legs.   
“Where are you-” Chase had barely started, but House was already out, banging the door open and running down the hall, shrieking doctors stumbling out of his way.   
“Wilson.” 

~~~~!

Wilson was on the balcony.   
House burst through his office, grabbed a bouquet of flowers from his desk, and shimmed through the sliding glass door, partially open. (There were roses on the balcony- much more romantic, but harder to pick. These would have to do.)  
“Wilson,” he announced. Wilson turned, white shirt partially untucked and (stupidly) expressive eyebrows raised. “My one true love.”   
“House,” he said curiously. He didn’t even blink at the ‘one true love’ thing- House probably had overused the gay jokes to really get a reaction out of him. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”  
House was tempted to kiss him right then and there, but instead, he offered the flowers to Wilson.  
“These are from my desk.”  
“And they’re very lovely, too,” House said politely.   
Wilson cocked his head and took the flowers. “What’s going on?”   
“I talked to Cameron, and Chase, and Foreman.” He paused. “And Cuddy.”   
“Okay.”   
“About us,” House clarified.   
“Okay?” A bemused expression was on his face.   
“I asked them if they thought you and I could be a couple.”   
Wilson choked. “You-you talked to Cuddy? About if we could have a romantic relationship?”   
“Yeah.”  
“This will totally ruin my rep,” he joked.   
“There’s not alot to ruin.”   
“Well, I’ve learned a lot of lessons,” House said, not entirely sure if he was serious or not. “And I have drawn the conclusion that you,” he said accusingly, pointing a finger at Wilson, “are a manipulative bitch.”  
House could see Wilson restrain a smile. “You know just what to say to a girl. I have to say, though, I still have no idea what we’re talking about.”   
“You manipulated me! You pretended to be awkward and confusing so I would talk to all these dimwits and realize I’m-” he stopped. In love with you.   
“I did not,” Wilson said firmly. It was a beautiful day, and a playful breeze ruffled his hair. “Trust me, if I had masterminded something like that, I would totally take credit for it.”  
“It’s just.. When you were almost unconscious, we were talking, and I- you-.” Wilson took a deep breath, and forced himself to meet House’s burning eyes. “I said I cared about you, more than you knew. And you said you loved me.”  
House was tempted to make a joke, but some sensible part of him said this was not the time. “When you woke up, I realized you didn’t remember.”  
“You could have just told me it was real!”   
“You would not react well to that.”  
“No, I wouldn’t.”  
“I just..” he shrugged. “I didn’t want to let you off the hook. I didn’t...I didn’t want you to run again.”   
There was a moment of silence. The breeze stirred the flowers in Wilson’s hand and both their jackets.   
“I love you,” House said suddenly- realizing it the same moment he said it. All those jokes- they meant something. All the looks between them, Wilson’s stupid ties- they meant something. In his hallucinations, he had literally killed someone trying to find meaning in his life.   
But he already had it. It was right here- on his balcony, on his fine spring day, standing next to his best friend. Who he was in love with.  
This little universe they had built-  
It _meant_ something.   
Something that only he and Wilson could define- not Cameron, or Cuddy, or Foreman or Chase.   
Something he _wanted_ to define, in his own words.   
Wilson paused, pained. “Please don’t joke.”   
“I’m not,” House took a step closer.   
“Oh.” Wilson gazed into House’s eyes. They've been close before, sure- picking each other off the floor, escorting each other out of bars when drunk- but they’ve never been lingering and breathless and torturous like this before.   
“Okay,” he whispered, cupping a hand around House’s neck. House felt himself freeze, and then melt at the touch.   
Wilson leaned up and kissed House’s nose. “I love you, too, you bastard.”   
“Romanticly?” House felt the need to double-check.   
“Romanticly,” Wilson confirmed, rolling his eyes slightly, but there was a huge grin spreading across his face. He buried his face in House’s shoulder.  
So this was it.   
House dipped his head- he could see Wilson's eyes widen, his lips parts- then, he mashes his lips onto Wilson's, who kisses back with surprising vigor. These needy, addicted noises he's making would have been so mortifying if he wasn't so _high_ \- kissing _Wilson!_ All those years of not kissing him were surging out of him, flying out of his mouth and into Wilson's, from hand to back to jaw to lip to ear and Wilson's hair, curled at the nape of his neck.   
There was the sound of a door opening, then a yelp, and it suddenly closed again. Wilson pulled away, breathing fast and heavy. "Maybe a balcony isn't the right pace for this."  
House rolled his eyes, but the feeling Wilson gave him, like light trickling out of his body, was still rushing in his blood. The two turned to the edge of the balcony, staring at the city, spread out below them. The sky seemed larger today, as if the vast blue expanse was showing off, just for them.   
“I’m never going to let you forget that,” House said softly, keeping a hand on Wilson's lower back. He was so warm, so _solid,_ House wanted to run his hands all over his body, just to make sure he was still there. _It all made sense now._  
“Never let me forget?” Wilson sputtered. “As if I’m the one who keeps on running from his feelings, and am so emotionally constipated he can’t thank the waiter when they’ve poured a glass of water.”   
House paused. Wilson did have a point. “No, you’re the one who has three failed marriages.”  
“Maybe that was because I was supposed to be with you,” Wilson mumbled, leaning into House’s touch.   
House didn’t respond to this.   
He and Wilson just stood there, leaning, two old men who kept on finding their way back to each other.   
Maybe the credit was given to House’s subconscious.   
Maybe it was fate.   
But one thing was for sure: they were here. They were now. They were together.   
And beside them, the roses were in bloom.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading!  
> Find me on tumblr at acca-be-the-same!


End file.
